


Customary

by hopeless_romantic_spoonie, yespolkadot_kitty



Series: As You Are [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Disabled Reader, F/M, First Date, Fluff, Loki fluff, disabled, spoonie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 00:54:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20591960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeless_romantic_spoonie/pseuds/hopeless_romantic_spoonie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yespolkadot_kitty/pseuds/yespolkadot_kitty
Summary: What is the first date with an Asgardian Prince like?





	Customary

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with the amazingly talented yespolkadot_kitty. She did a lot of the legwork for this chapter, so send her some love!

_You_ were going on a _date_ with an _alien Prince._

How in the world had that happened?

You had spent far too long agonizing over every little detail leading up to the moment that Loki knocked on your door, rather than use his key - “It is customary for the male suitor to _not_ have a key to his affection’s home at this point.” Did you go for comfort or style? What of your comfortable clothes would be fitting to wear on a date with someone like Loki? Surely he wouldn’t do anything too extravagant for a first date?

Then again, he was actually from another planet. Who knew the rules of alien dating?

You had to stop yourself from cursing at the sight of him. He wore smart dark jeans, green button-up shirt and crisp black suit jacket like it was his job. He was breathtaking. How were you supposed to compete with _that?_

“What is wrong?” he asked, instantly concerned by the vexed expression you wore.

You waved your hand up and down his body. “You look like you just walked off of a runway.”

“Thank you - and another time we will talk about why fashion models, as you call them, and aeroplanes use the same device - but forgive me, I do not understand the issue?”

Self-conscious about your sudden insecurity - the man had seen you looking far worse several times now - you crossed your arms over your stomach and stepped back to invite him in. Your face burned as you stared at the floor after closing the door. “I just feel like a potato. You know?”

He sat the flowers he had brought down on your kitchen counter before strolling back to you until his black leather boots met almost toe to toe with your sensible flats. “I can’t honestly say I have ever experienced that particular emotion.”

A bitter laugh burst out of you of its own volition. “Of course. No one who looks like you ever has.”

“Is it simply the differences in our attire? That is easily remedied.”

Gold light glowed from your torso, and when it disappeared, an elegant emerald green blouse had taken the place of your simple solid t-shirt and cardigan. It wasn’t too restricting or revealing, just classy enough to match the jeans adorning your legs. Your neck felt much colder than a moment ago, and you reached up to find that your hair had been piled into an elegant knot on the back of your head.

“While I believe that you were just as beautiful before, does this help you feel less like a root vegetable?”

The sincerity of his tone chipped away a bit more at that piece of your heart that he had been trying to capture for weeks now; it was almost his. You smiled honestly and finally lifted your eyes up to him, forcing yourself to breathe evenly with how close he was, his handsome face just inches from yours. “We match now.”

“I quite enjoy it. Is that acceptable?”

The hint of vulnerability that creased the smooth skin between his brows revealed that he cared about the answer much more than he tried to let on. Summoning all your bravery despite your racing heart, you reached out and entwined his fingers with yours. “It’s perfect.”

*****

“_This_ is your car?”

He let go of his hold on your hand to open the door to the shiny black sports car, its chassis sleek as a panther, reminding you of the man before you. He offered his hand to help you inside since it was so low to the ground. “Of course. Why would I assist you into the vehicle of another?”

You waited until he had settled into the driver’s seat and headed off to reply, “It’s a _Jaguar_. This thing had to be expensive.”

“The mechanics are remarkably similar to chariots I’ve commandeered from other races in the past.”

A thought suddenly occurred to you and you looked over to him with wide eyes. “Did you make a reservation? Because in New York City on Friday night, we’re going to be screwed if you didn’t.”

He winked arrogantly. “I took care of it.”

*****

After dropping you off in front of the hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant so he could park the car, Loki tapped you on the shoulder, drawing a startled squeak out of you. 

“That is certainly a noise I haven’t heard from you before,” he smirked and held out his arm to escort you inside. “Perhaps the first of many. Shall we?”

If your cheeks burned any hotter your face would burst into flames. You tucked your hand into the crook of his elbow and followed him inside.

“It’s empty in here!” In New York, on a Friday night, that was _not_ a good sign. Nothing was ever empty in the city that never slept.

“Would a booth or a table be more comfortable for you?” he asked, explaining nothing as he led you over to a corner of the restaurant where both options were presented to you with a lit candle and a single rose in the center of the tables.

You slid into the booth, secretly charmed that he would ask your opinion and prepare for either option. It didn’t deter your concerns, however. “Loki…”

He sat opposite you, the candlelight adding a touch of warmth to his pale skin. He nodded at someone behind you before meeting your gaze steadily, head tilted to the side to wait for you to continue.

“Why is no one else in here?”

“Because I have found that most anything can be purchased on Midgard for the right sum, including a private evening with delicious food,” he replied smoothly. “And here is the talented woman responsible for said delicacies.”

A tiny Chinese woman wearing a purple cheongsam crossed from the kitchen to their table. Her short hair was obsidian black, worn in a severely cropped style that framed her pixie face of high cheekbones and almond-shaped brown eyes.

“Welcome to The Golden Dragon,” she said in accented English. She cast a sly glance at Loki. “_Xiăo_, you’ve brought a woman for the first time.”

Loki introduced you. “This is Nai Nai,” he added, gesturing to the restaurant owner. When she left them in search of menus, he said in a low voice,” _Xiăo_ is Cantonese for _little_. A joke between us.”

You blinked. “You know her… well?”

He shrugged. The candlelight bathed his angular features, kissing his cheekbones with gold. “A time or two I’ve assisted with a few matters.”

You took the offered menu from Nai Nai when she returned, nodding to her with a smile before she left to give you a moment to look it over. You directed your compliment into the menu. “How generous of you.”

He didn’t even bother to glance at the offerings. “I assure you I am not as altruistic as you imagine; I simply appreciate good food, and protecting those who produce it.”

Nai Nai returned and gave her advice on what to order - she suggested a pared-down version of their Emperor’s Choice banquet - hot & sour soup to start, char sui miniature pork buns served alongside, and then a mixed seafood chow mein, vegetables in oyster sauce and duck in plum sauce for the main course.

You raised a brow when Loki agreed, wondering if you’d be able to eat it all. And maintain some sort of dignity; chopsticks weren’t your forte.

But during the meal, there wasn’t time to worry about something as trivial as your chopstick skills. He admitted that ‘Nai Nai’ was actually Mandarin for grandma - she had insisted, and you got the impression he _sort of_ feared her - which nicked at that ever-growing section of your heart that he was taking for himself. He entertained you with tales from Stark Tower over the delicious meal, ranging from hijinks carried on against Tony to his own frustrations with Dr. Strange’s ‘cheap _imitations_ of magic.’ But he admitted that he had a liking for the sorcerer seeing as the good Doctor often created a portal directly into Stark’s office rather than bother to email him, scaring a year off Tony’s life each time. The Avengers found it most amusing. 

Laughing the whole time at his tall tales, as the savory flavors of the food melted on your tongue, you slowly settled back into the comfort that had been established from spending many meals together in your apartment.

Only this time, there was an extra layer of tension beneath it all, tightening the muscles in your stomach whenever your eyes would meet over the table.

“I thought fortune cookies weren’t actually Chinese?” you asked, even as you excitedly ripped into the plastic wrapping protecting yours.

“It is still considered an important part of the meal, is it not?”

You loved opening things, so you weren’t going to argue. “Happy life is just in front of you.” It was pleasingly trite, but you hoped it might be true. You certainly couldn’t find fault with the man in front of you, so.

Loki opened his with less ferocity, unfurling the small paper with long, deft fingers and scowling down at the contents. “The one that recognizes the illusion does not act as if it is real.”

*****

Not that you had gone on many dates, but without fail, the most awkward part of the whole affair was always the end of it, and the fact Loki had seen you in sweatpants didn’t make this any easier.

“You coming inside?” you asked, hiding your sudden bout of nerves by facing the door and putting your back to him as your shaking hands finally managed to stick the key into the lock.

“Do you need any assistance this evening?”

You palmed your keys after removing them and opening the door. “Nope, I think I’m good. I’m just going to go to bed.”

“Am I to bid goodnight to your back?” he asked, settling a large warm hand onto your upper arm.

You flushed and turned around, successfully chided, your breath hitching in your throat at the warmth in his eyes as he towered over you. 

“It _is_ still customary for me to kiss you goodnight following our excursion?” he whispered, his voice low, tone intimate.

You couldn’t look away from his gaze; he’d enchanted you thoroughly and you were a willing thrall. “Uh huh,” you managed, presenting your cheek.

Loki leaned down, smelling not of Chinese food as most people did after dinner in an Asian place and instead of his usual intoxicating cocktail of citrus and spice. His face was just a breath from yours when a twinge of pain snapped in your back and you involuntarily turned your head. Your lips met his for a moment that stretched. Every cell in your body _hummed_ in approval.

His hand slid down to clasp yours gently, squeezing it as he broke the kiss with a soft smile. “Goodnight, kitten.”

And with a brush of his soft lips on your forehead, he was gone, taking with him that piece of your heart that he had been working away at all evening.


End file.
